Haunted
by JessePinkmanned
Summary: Kurt's best friend, Blaine, was kidnapped at a young age. Eight years later, he's still holding on to hope that Blaine might someday return. (Rated M for language, rape, and pedophilia later on.) {FIRST PERSON. NOT INSERT YOURSELF.}


Everyone has a moment that scars them.

It happened when I was ten..

I remember running through the woods – it was sometime in the evening, but I'm not quite sure the exact time. The only sound that I could hear was the _crunch_ of the fallen leaves as my feet trampled on them and my breath that was only getting heavier as time went on. Blaine was a just few feet behind me, struggling to keep up because of his asthma. I was worried for him, so I ran slower than I could have. I was just scared something might happen to him if I took off and left him. To be honest, I have no idea who exactly we were running from. I was too scared at the time to take note of details, even though now I really wish I would have. The only thing I know for sure is that it was a man with short, unkempt hair who was tall, and that he was catching up to us faster than we could run.

We were almost out of the woods – I knew this because I could see the little fort Blaine and I had built earlier that afternoon just a few feet from the opening by our house so we could play our weekly game of "Battlefront" – when Blaine tripped over a fallen branch and fell down. He was crying, and I stopped and turned around, looking up at the man coming up before back down to Blaine, who started screaming for me to go without him; that he'd be okay. I didn't believe him, and I certainly didn't want to leave him behind – he was my best friend, how could I even imagine being without him?- but the more Blaine begged, I felt I _had_ to, so I took off running with tears in my eyes without looking back.

It only took about two minutes to get back home, but they were the longest two minutes of my life. I screamed as I ran inside, and my dad, who was laying on the couch, looked up and asked what all the ruckus was about. I clutched onto him tightly, sobbing into his shirt as I tried to regain my composure enough to tell him about what had happened. When I finally vaguely told him everything that had happened, about how we were just playing in the woods when a man came up and tried taking Blaine and me away, but we ran, and then Blaine tripped and told me to keep running, he told me to sit and try to relax while he called the police.

The sirens were outside of my house sooner than I had expected, and my dad went outside. When he came back in, there was an older man in a standard police uniform with him. They sat down at our kitchen table, and Dad poured two cups of coffee – one for him and one of the policeman – before they started taking. The policeman started asking a bunch of questions that my dad couldn't answer, and soon the man came over to me. He knelt down in front of the couch and smiled at me before he started asking the same questions to me: "Where were you? Why where you out there? Who was the other kid? What did the man who chased you look like? What happened to the other kid?" I answered his questions as best as I could, but I don't think they were exactly what he wanted to hear because every time I would respond, he would simply reply with a heavy sigh. He soon told my dad that they would continue to look into the case, and that they would find the man who did this.

The police came in and out of the woods over a series of a year, yet the only thing they ever found was one of Blaine's shoes and a small scrap of his shirt in the river a few miles west of the woods. Every morning, I would watch the news to see if anything new had came up, and usually there was something that the police were looking into, and every morning after the news, I would ask my dad if they had found Blaine yet – if he was ever going to be back – and my dad always responded in the same way: "Blaine will be back someday, sweetie. He's just playing a very good game of hide-and-seek." I knew he was lying to try to make me feel better, but even so, just the thought that Blaine would show up gave me some sort of hope that he would.

Two years after the incident, the visits from the cops started to get less and less frequent until they finally came to a stop all together, and the news reports of a missing child and leads in investigations quieted down, and it finally made me give up any thought I had in the past of ever seeing my best friend again. My dad kept telling me to not give up hope, but it was impossible not to. It had been two years. It would take a miracle to ever see him again.

You know what they say about dwelling on the past – you can't do it. So, after eight years of therapy sessions (which I still attend on a regular basis) I've actually managed to make it through. My therapist told me at my first session that the best thing I could do for myself was to keep myself busy – not allow myself time for distractions – and that's exactly what I've done. Between keeping up my 3.7 GPA and co-captaining the Cheerios!, our high school's cheerleading program, I'm keeping up my self-image and managing tons of friends. Despite being busy, there are still days I'll think about Blaine and get upset, still wonder what things would be like if I would have just stopped to help Blaine up, or even if we just wouldn't have went out in the woods to begin with.. I like to think we'd still be as close of friends as we were, maybe even closer, and that I'd still be able to do everything I do today, but those days are only on off days when there's not much going on, and they pass soon, so it's not too much of a problem. Like I said, I can't dwell on the past.

The week before Christmas was the week when things began getting a little weird. On that Monday, I was running behind. I had stayed up too late the night before trying to finish homework that I had completely forgotten about, so I slept through my alarm. I slipped into the school just as the bell was about to ring and I gathered my things from my locker before heading into History class, trying not to smile at my teacher as he handed me a late pass. I took my seat next to Mercedes and Brittany, ignoring their laughs as stuffed the pass into my bag, trading it in for my notebook and pencil.

I wrote down what little Mr. Ellis had up on the board already into my notebook while trying to listen to what he was speaking about. Mercedes nudged me, and I turned my head to face her, keeping my eyes on the notebook page as I finished up the sentence I was writing. She started talking, and I was only half paying attention because she was complaining about the guy she had just gotten together with after knowing him for just over a week. Usually I had compassion for Mercedes – I knew she just dated like that because she never had enough attention at home – but right now I was totally out of it and I didn't have the energy to care. I heard her voice get a little higher and then she stopped, which only could mean one thing: she asked me a question. I had no idea what it was, and just as I was about to just say: "Do whatever you think is the right thing," Brittany chimed in, telling her that she once dated a guy who was just like whoever Mercedes was dating, and that the best thing to do was to just sleep with him and get it over with.

I nodded. I didn't really care one way or the other – it's not like Mercedes had never slept with a guy just so she wouldn't feel so bad about breaking up with him (which I never understood, but some people are just like that) – and Brittany was actually paying attention unlike myself, and anyway, Mercedes seemed to think it was a good idea so why not.

As I looked back up at the board to see if Mr. Ellis had written anything down, I noticed a gruff looking boy in a plaid jacket and worn out jeans standing outside the classroom, looking over a slip of paper that was crinkled and ripped in various places. I didn't recognize him, so I figured he was probably just a new student who was trying to find his next class. He looked up at the door sign and back down to the paper before crumpling it back up and walking into the classroom.

Upon further inspection, I began to think that this boy looked somewhat familiar.. It wasn't a full on look that stuck me, there was just _something_ about him that I knew I had seen before.

"Is this Mr. Ellis' History class?" He said, taking me out of my state of blankness I was in. I was taken back at how gravelly his voice was. It was almost unreal.

Mr. Ellis told him that it was, and he asked for the boy's name, to which he responded: "Jason Stone." Mr. Ellis smiled at him, saying that he was expecting him and telling him to go have a seat in front of me. He looked over at me, and I could see him practically frown. I looked over to Mercedes to see if she saw it too, but she was already practically drooling over him. I sighed, turning my attention back to the notebook. I turned to a fresh page and began writing a note to Mercedes, asking her if the boy looked even the least bit familiar to her. I tore out the page and folded it carefully before handing it to Mercedes as I looked back up to Jason, who was begrudgingly walking over to the seat in front of me.

As he sat down, I offered him a small smile. He half-smiled back before turning back around and leaning back against his chair. I wanted to look away from the man but I couldn't. He was too familiar, and I _had _to know what it was.

Studying the boy over, I noticed a few small scars littered across the back of his neck. Some of them disappeared under his collar, and I wondered how long they were and where they came from. I was lost in my thoughts of this, debating myself on whether or not they could have came from an animal when Mercedes elbowed me in the side and handed the note back to me.

I was disappointed to find that she didn't think he looked familiar, but I figured that would have been the answer. I was probably just trying to see things that weren't there; I was tired after all. I tuned my attention back to Mr. Ellis, scribbling a few things more into my notebook that were up on the board.

While the period drug on, my attention kept fluctuating between the teacher, my notebook, and the scars on the back of Jason's neck. They were just so prominent, how could I not be curious?

"Mercedes," I whispered over to the girl, nudging her gently in the side. "Look at the back of the new kids neck."

She looked over at me and raised an eyebrow, and I rolled my eyes at her, twitching my head over to him. She sighed. Her eyes darted over to him, and I watched as she noticed the scars. She looked back over to me, looking rather confused.

"Why did you want me to see that?" She asked quietly, sounding a little impatient. I looked back over to the boy, he was rubbing over the scars with his short, stubby fingers, and I shrugged a little.

"It just doesn't seem like a normal place for scars."

Just as she was about to respond, the bell rung. I noticed Jason jump. Apparently Mercedes did too, because she was now snickering. Brittany tapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him, saying something about how she used to be scared of the bell, too, so it would be okay. Jason just nodded at her before turning away and gathering his things, rushing out of the classroom.

"Well, he's talkative." I said, stuffing my notebook into my bag and zipping it up before slipping it onto my shoulder. Mercedes laughed.

Over the next week, I began to see Jason around a lot more. He kept popping up in more of my classes, which I assumed was just because he was only now finding his way around, and I started seeing him more in the halls. It the Friday before we left for Christmas break when I met up with Mercedes. Brittany, Santana, and Rachel at our usual table for lunch. They were already talking about the newest gossip, which I never really cared for, so I just sat and nibbled on the apple I had brought from home.

Rachel was talking about the star quarterback, Finn Hudson, had just been kicked off the team for use of steroids when Brittany interjected.

"Jason looks lonely."

The table went silent, and everyone simultaneously looked to the spot Brittany was looking. She wasn't wrong. The new kid was sitting by himself at the table on the edge of the cafeteria, slowly scooping some food off of his plate into his spoon. I felt kind of bad for him. I never had to deal with anything like that, but I could only imagine how it felt.

"We should go sit by him." Mercedes said, and Brittany agreed immediately. Rachel and Santana scoffed, shaking their heads.

"No way I'm going and talking to that freak," Santana said, taking a large bite of her pasta. "He freaks me out."

"I agree." Rachel said, looking to Santana before back at Mercedes. "In Spanish, he almost punched a kid for tapping him on the shoulder.. I mean, seriously. What kind of behavior is that? Especially for someone's first day.."

Mercedes shrugged a little, grabbing her tray and standing up. Brittany followed soon after.

"Well unlike you two, Brittany and I are _nice_." She said, looking over to me. "Are you coming?"

I wanted to, but I knew that I'd never get to live it down if I did, so I refused. Both girls glared at me before walking off. I watched them as they headed over to Jason, trying to block out the gossip that had already started up again beside me.

Jason didn't even look up when the two sat down. Mercedes was the first to start talking, as usual, and I could see Jason kind of shrug. As the two kept trying to talk to him, he only responded in non-verbal movements. Did he ever talk? It was like he hadn't ever had human contact, like he didn't know _how_ to keep up a conversation.

I finished my apple and stood up, ignoring Rachel asking me where I was going as I headed over to Jason, Mercedes, and Brittany. I was going over there against my wits, but I couldn't help myself.

As I got over there, Mercedes patted the spot beside her and I sat, looking over to Jason and smiling a little.

"Hi." I said. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier. "I'm Kurt."

I offered my hand out for Jason to shake, but he just looked at it. I slowly lowered it and cleared my throat. I heard Brittany mumble an offsetting "Awkward." and I nodded a little at her, looking back to the new kid. I was going to get him to talk before lunch was over.

"So, Jason," I said, drumming my fingers against the table. "How are you liking the school so far?"

He shrugged. I cocked my head to the side.

"Oh, c'mon. You have to have some opinion on it." I persisted.

He shrugged again before finally looking up to me. His eyes were honey-golden. They reminded me of Blaine's. "It's alright."

I was taken back. I didn't actually expect an answer, but I'll be dammed, he gave me one. I looked to Mercedes. She was smiling a little at me and I smiled back, looking over to Blaine.

"Yeah, it's not the greatest school." I said in response. "But it's kind of like home. You'll get used to it."

He nodded a little and grabbed his tray, leaving us to go dump it into the trash.

"Oh my god," I said quietly. "He talked."

Mercedes laughed and shook her head a little. "Hummel, you've got a thing for the new kid, don't you?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "No?"

"Really now?"

I nodded. Mercedes rolled her eyes at me, I stuck my tongue out at her, and then Jason was back in his seat. I looked over him.

His eyes were his most prominent feature about him. They almost appeared to glow against his pale, doll-like skin. His nose was just a little too wide for his thin face, and the bridge narrowed before widening again, melting into his triangular shaped eyebrows. I'd be the first to admit, he _was_ attractive, but as far as being interested went, I just couldn't see it. At least not yet. But that didn't stop Mercedes.

"So, Jason," Mercedes said kindly, leaning on her elbow as she looked at the new kid. "Do you have a phone?"

He raised an eyebrow. I could see him swallow hard before shaking his head and dropping his eyes back to the table.

"Oh. That's okay. I was just asking because we're having a study group over break." She said, shrugging a little. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to join us?"

Blaine shrugged a little, looking up to me and back over to Mercedes. "Sure, I guess."

Mercedes grinned and nodded, looking over to me. "Kurt, pen, paper." She prompted, and I dug into my bag, handing her what she asked for. She wrote down her address and the date and time the study session would be before handing it over to Jason just as the bell rang.

"Great! We'll see you then!" She said, hopping up and tugging me with her, grinning. "You're welcome." She whispered to me, to which I only rolled my eyes. She wasn't going to give up.


End file.
